The Broken Crown

Chapter 36

Thomas

It was the day after the baptism that the danger posed by the people was once more brought to the court’s attention.

 Thomas was walking the halls of the castle, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time, when a scream resonated in the pale, marble walls and footsteps could be heard. The serving girl who appeared was running so fast that she was panting and stumbling over her own feet, her hair in complete disarray.

 “Murder!” she screamed when she saw him. “Someone has been killed.”

 She collapsed onto the floor before him and all he could do was stare. Then his heart jumped and he realized what she had just said. “Guards,” he called, as loudly as he could. The sound of steel against steel had never been so reassuring.

 “Murder,” she called to the soldiers. “Murder, in the King’s chambers.”

 Thomas’ eyes widened while the soldiers ran down the halls. “The King’s chambers?” he questioned the handmaiden.

 She looked at him with teary eyes. “Yes, m’lord.”

 “Surely, His Grace is not hurt?”

 She sobbed. “I don’t know. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know anything.”

 Thomas walked to her to calm her, but when she flinched away he decided maybe it would be easier to calm her from afar. Her frightened glances towards his short legs did not go unnoticed. “Who died?”

 She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t know her name… Karen or something. She’s a serving girl, like me, sent to change His Grace’s sheets, and then this man entered…”

 “How did he look like, do you remember?”

 Her words were almost incomprehensible between her sobs. “I don’t know… he was hooded, I couldn’t see…”

 Thomas groaned. “Did he have red hair?”

 "I don’t know.” She looked at him, her eyes boring into his. “All I know is…” Her talking paused and it seemed she was thinking very closely about something. A furrow appeared and she sobbed again. “He didn’t have red hair, m’lord. It was black, or brown. Not red.”

 Thomas nodded slowly. So it was not the Shadow. “Thank you so much,” he said, truly grateful. “What is your name? I shall see that you are rewarded for your trouble.”

 “Joan,” she said, voice frail.

 “Joan,” he repeated. “Go now, somewhere you feel safe.”

 Thomas went straight to the throne room then, knowing that Raphael would be holding court at this hour. “Everybody, out!” he roared with a voice louder than anyone would have though possible form a man of his stature.

 Raphael, dressed richly and wearing his crown, stood up from his throne and stared down the aisle created between the masses of people. “What is this?”

 Whispers of uncertainty filled the room as Thomas mounted the stairs to kneel by the King’s feet. “Your Grace, we must speak in privacy.”

 Raphael might be a boy, and not half as good a king as his father had been in his youth, but at least he was not as much like his mother as Thomas would have thought. He rose and said, his voice booming from the walls, “Leave us.”

 “What is this?” he asked once the room was cleared.

 “There has been an attack on your bedchambers.”